Best Laid Plans
by SupernaturalGeek
Summary: After the events in 'Shadow', can Dean really go through with a plan that will most likely save Sam but possibly destroy himself in the process?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Just a little something that popped into my head after watching Shadow.. Hope you like it! Please feel free to review if you do -smiles nervously - it really does make my day:)_

Dean couldn't remember a time he felt this tired. His entire body felt like he'd been run over by a semi, and he knew from the warm wetness dripping down his left side that the gash the Deavas had inflicted was still bleeding freely.

He shifted his head from side to side to try and ease the crick in his neck and was rewarded with a wave of dizziness for his trouble. Blinking quickly to try and regain his vision before he drove them off the road, he swallowed.

"We should stop at the next motel" he said quietly.

Sam actually jumped at the sound of Dean's voice. He'd been staring out the window, lost in thought, and neither of them had said a word since watching John drive away in his truck.

"Sure. Whatever" he said listlessly.

Dean's jaw clenched at the flat tone of Sam's voice but said nothing. He didn't have the energy to get into the inevitable discussion that was coming, since right now it was taking all his concentration not to pass out at the wheel.

Four of the longest miles in his life later, Dean finally spotted a motel up ahead. Thanking whichever God was responsible for giving them a break at last, Dean turned the Impala into the parking lot and gratefully switched off the throaty engine. He sat there for a few moments, trying to work up the energy to get out of the car.

The fact that they'd stopped moving finally registered with Sam and he turned to look at Dean. Seeing his brother sitting there not moving, his eyes closed, Sam frowned.

"Dean? You ok?" he said with concern.

Dean jumped a little and opened his eyes. "I'm fine Sam" he said, pulling himself together with monumental effort.

Sam wasn't convinced but didn't feel up to pursuing it right now. Pulling down the visor he looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced. His face was covered in blood, and Dean was no better. Looking like this they'd be lucky if the motel clerk didn't call the cops the minute they walked in.

"We can't go in looking like this" he said and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Ya think?" he said and opened the door, getting out with all the speed and grace of a 90 year old.

Biting back the groan as standing up pulled at the gash on his side, Dean went to the trunk of the car and opened it one handed. Reaching in to one of their bags he grabbed a flannel and a half empty bottle of water. Soaking the flannel he wiped it over his face, wincing as he pulled at the cuts there that now began to sting and throb in earnest. Soon he could see the cloth was dark with blood, even in the dim light from the trunk, but he at least looked a little more presentable.

Going round to the drivers side again he ducked his head to look in the wing mirror. The cuts were still obvious, but thankfully didn't look like they'd need stitches. And with all the blood gone he didn't look quite like an extra from the Living Dead anymore. It would just have to do for now.

Fixing his best charming expression on his face, Dean walked over to the motel office trying not to limp too much. Sam watched him as he went, noting the stiffness in Dean's gait and the absence of the usual swagger. He knew asking Dean outright how badly he was hurt was a waste of time, so he simply vowed to check him out properly when they were in the room – whether Dean liked it or not.

Of course that was assuming the clerk would rent a room to them with Dean looking the way he did.

Whatever pain he might be in right now, clearly the Dean Winchester charm was still working as a few minutes later he returned with a room key and a tired smirk for Sam as his brother got out of the car. Shaking his head and not even bothering to ask what tale Dean had spun to get them the room, Sam opened the trunk and grabbed both bags.

He was both surprised and a little concerned when Dean didn't even question him carrying both bags, and he stuck close to his brother as they walked across to the room.

Dean opened the door and flicked the light switch as they went in. As rooms went they'd stayed in worse and it seemed clean and comfortable at least. Although given the way both of them felt right now, they'd have been happy with anything.

"I'm gonna hit the shower first" said Dean, reaching out and grabbing his bag from Sam.

Before Sam could even reply Dean was gone, the bathroom door shutting firmly behind him. Sam frowned. He'd really wanted to take a look at how badly Dean had been hurt but as usual Dean had deflected him before he'd even had a chance. Sighing, Sam sat down on one of the beds with a groan and put on the TV for wont of something better to do.

Dean sat on the edge of the bath with his head in his hands. His head really was spinning now and he was starting to wonder just how much blood he'd actually lost. He just hoped there wasn't too much of it on the seat of the Impala – blood was a bitch to get out of the leather, he knew from experience. Speaking of leather.. Sitting up he managed to shrug off his jacket, biting his lip to keep from crying out as his side protested the movement. Holding it up in front of him he saw that the lining on the left side was dark with blood.

"Crap" he muttered, knowing that was gonna be tough to get out. Getting up from the side of the tub, he put a hand out to steady himself on the wall as the room tilted alarmingly. When he was certain he wasn't going to take a header and end up sprawled on the bathroom floor, he hung the jacket up and turned his attention to his shirt and t-shirt.

Facing the bathroom mirror, he grimaced at the sight that greeted him. The entire side of his shirt was soaked with blood and when he took it off, his t-shirt was even worse.

"Great" he muttered under his breath. Despite not exactly having an extensive wardrobe, he knew both of them were a lost cause between the blood stains and the claw-marks so he balled them together and threw them in the corner of the room. He'd get rid of them when Sam wasn't looking.

Now bare chested, he twisted slightly to get a good look at the gash. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, he wished he hadn't. It was about half an inch across and ran from just above his hip to the middle of his chest, stretching the full length of his left side. He prodded the gash and winced. It looked like it needed stitches but there was no way he was going to the hospital and equally no way he was gonna let Sam see it. His brother was already on edge enough from the night's events without getting him worked up over this. And besides, if Sam knew Dean had been hurt this badly then he'd never go along with what Dean had planned. And he had to. There was no other choice.

Pushing aside thoughts of the impending pain from what he was going to do, and not the physical kind, Dean reached over and started the shower going. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he stepped gingerly under the water. The gash stung like someone had just rubbed salt in there and Dean clenched his fist against the tiles.

"_Son _of a bitch!" he exclaimed as quietly as possible, closing his eyes briefly against the pain.

When the stinging had receded to a dull throb, Dean quickly washed himself and stepping out of the tub grabbed one of the towels from the rail. He was so light-headed now that he had to sit down again as he dried himself and he hoped he wouldn't pass out. That was all he needed, Sam rushing in to find him a heap on the floor.

Shivering despite the heat of the room, he quickly pulled on underwear and jeans from the bag, and grabbed the first aid kit. He smothered his side with antiseptic cream, noticing that it had at least stopped bleeding quite so heavily, and then with some difficulty managed to place some gauze over the wound and wrap the whole thing with a bandage. Tying off the end, he sat there for a moment to get his breath back, wiping away the beads of sweat that had sprung up on his forehead with the back of his hand. He pulled a clean t-shirt over his head and glancing in the mirror was satisfied that the bandage didn't show through.

Fixing a neutral expression on his face he opened the door and stepped out in a cloud of steam.

Sam glanced up as he heard the door open. It had taken all his willpower not to check on his brother while he was in there. He had a feeling there was something Dean was hiding from him and a bad feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach.

He frowned as he saw how pale Dean was, even though he looked better now he wasn't covered in blood.

Dean glanced at him as he chucked his bag in the corner of the room and sat down on the other bed, with more care than he would normally.

"All yours Sammy. Unless you're trying out a new look?" he said dryly.

"Dean.." began Sam but Dean cut him off.

"You'd better get in there before all the hot water goes, Sam" he said firmly.

Sam sighed, but couldn't deny he did want to get rid of the dried blood and God know s what else that he was covered in right now.

Throwing the remote onto Dean's bed next to him, Sam grabbed his bag and went into the bathroom.

Dean let out a sigh of relief and leant his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He'd thought for a moment that Sam was going to argue with him, but thankfully for once he'd given in without a fight. Dean's stomach churned with what he was about to do, but he knew it was the right thing. For Sam and for himself.

Hoping that for once Sam wouldn't break the habit of a lifetime and be out of the bathroom in less than 30 minutes minimum, Dean pushed himself off the bed and went over to where their laptop sat on the table.

10 minutes later he was done. He wasn't really good at words, either in person or on screen as it were, but he hoped what he'd typed was enough to get Sam to agree to the plan. It had to be – as far as Dean could see there was no other option.

Dean managed to put his shoes on with monumental effort and slipped his jacket back on, not caring that the lining was still blood soaked. He needed the warmth right now – he felt so cold and it wasn't just from the bloodloss. Taking out his wallet he pulled a handful of bills from it and placed them next to the laptop, along with one of the many credit cards he carried.

Picking up his bag, but making sure first that he took out the first aid kit and left it for Sam, Dean walked over to the door. As he put his hand on the doorknob his gaze wandered back to the bathroom door. He could still hear the shower running and he wished for a moment that he could just say goodbye to Sam properly. But he knew that would only make things harder. Hardening his resolve and swallowing the lump in his throat, Dean opened the door and, closing it quietly behind him, he walked away from the room and from his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stood under the hot water, feeling some of the tension in his neck ease as the muscles slowly loosened. He'd been expecting worse when he stripped off, but he seemed to have been lucky. Aside from the long gash on his face, which would thankfully heal without stitches, he'd got off lightly. There were about half a dozen shallow cuts over his chest and back but none of them were deep and none of them would need more than a quick dab of antiseptic cream.

He found his mind wandering back to Dean again and he wondered just what his brother had been hiding from him. There was no doubt about it, Dean had definitely been hurt worse than him, Sam was convinced of that. But he also knew how stubborn Dean could be, especially when it came to his health. He was always the first to take care of other people, especially Sam and their Dad, but God forbid anyone should want to take care of him.

Sam remembered when Dean had been about 12 years old. He'd been feeling off for a few days and even at the age of 8, Sam had known something was wrong with his brother. Dean however had insisted he was fine and forbade Sam from mentioning to John when he found him throwing up in the bathroom one morning. Sam could still remember vividly what had happened next. It had been a Sunday, so both of them were home from school. John had been out picking up some food as the cupboards were literally bare, and Sam was reading. Dean had been quiet all morning after the throwing up incident and Sam was worried although he'd known even back then that it was pointless to push his brother about how he was feeling.

Sam had just been getting to an exciting part, when he'd heard a crash from their bedroom. Putting down the book, he'd wandered in to make sure everything was ok and the sight that greeted him was burned in his memory. Dean had been lying on the floor, rolling around in agony with his knees curled up to his chest. His eyes had been tightly closed and his face was white as a sheet. He hadn't responded to Sam's desperate cries and Sam hadn't even been sure Dean knew he was there.

Just then Sam had heard the rumble of the Impala's engine as John pulled into the driveway. He'd been greeted by his youngest son throwing himself at him, hysterical almost, babbling about Dean being hurt. John had dropped the shopping and run into their room. Taking one look at Dean he'd scooped his eldest son into is arms, despite his growing height, and moments later Sam found himself in the back of the car cradling Dean's head in his lap as their Dad sped to the hospital. Sam had never been that scared and he could still see Dean's face, so pale and still as he rested on Sam's legs.

It had turned out Dean had appendicitis and they'd barely been in time to operate before it had burst. Later when he was finally allowed in to see his brother, who was by that time propped up against his pillows looking pale but alert again, Sam had stood there with trembling lips and yelled at Dean for not telling John how bad he'd been feeling.

John had sat there with raised eyebrows as he managed to glean from Sam's meltdown that his eldest had been feeling ill for days but he hadn't yelled too, only telling Dean mildly that there was a difference between making a fuss and getting help when you were genuinely sick or hurt. He'd been able to see that all the yelling in the world couldn't possibly make Dean feel any worse than he did sitting there watching his brother's distress and knowing he'd been the cause of it.

Sam had eventually run out of words and began sobbing silently, tears pouring down his face. That had been the final straw for Dean who'd held out his arms and, mindful of his brother's stitches, Sam had practically thrown himself onto the bed and clutched at Dean like he was going to suddenly disappear.

Dean had just held Sam as he cried, telling him over and over that he was ok and that he was sorry he'd scared him. Eventually Sam had fallen asleep right there on the bed, still in Dean's arms. And Dean had been fast behind him, the events of the day and the remnants of the anaesthesia catching up with him. From what Sam could remember the nurses let them stay like that all night, while John had slept soundly in the chair next to them.

Shaking his head to bring himself back the the present, Sam realised he'd been standing under the water so long it was starting to get cool. Quickly finishing washing he got out, dried himself, and got dressed. The first aid kit wasn't in his bag, so he assumed it was in Dean's. Opening the door he stepped out into the room in a cloud of steam.

"Is the first aid kit in your bag?" he said. When there was no reply, he looked up and realised he was the only one in the room.

The TV was still on with the sound turned down and nothing appeared untoward. Sam glanced at the table and saw the laptop was open and there was something on the screen.

Feeling his stomach clench with a sudden sense of foreboding, Sam walked over to the laptop and sat down heavily. There was writing on the screen in the form of a letter, addressed to him.

_Dear Sammy,_

_You're probably wondering where I am and why you're reading this huh? Well you know me – I never have been very good at the whole 'talking' thing. The truth is I'm not sure I could say this to your face, so I don't really have a choice. I need you to know that this isn't because you've done anything wrong. I'm doing what's best, for you. Part of me wishes I'd never come to ask you for help, looking for Dad. Maybe it would have saved you from all the bad stuff that's happened. But I can't go back and change that now, all I can do is what's right. We found Dad and yeah, it sucks beyond belief that we had to let him go again. But at least now we know he's ok, that he's getting closer to the Demon. I know you don't agree with me about letting him go alone, but it was the only option – we are too much of a liability to Dad right now and he needs to concentrate on the fight, not whether that son of a bitch is gonna use you or me against him. And he'll let us know when the final showdown is coming – he promised, and you know he wouldn't lie about something like that. In the meantime you need to go back to College, Sam. Live that normal life I know you miss so much. I want you to be safe, and right now that means you not being around me, not being around hunting. I promise you, I will call as soon as Dad gets in touch and you will be part of taking down that Demon but until then you should do what you have to, and that means being a geeky, smart ass, college boy just like you always wanted. I know you've hated being back in the game and I know how hard it's been for you, and don't think I don't appreciate the fact that you stuck around until we found Dad. But now it's time for you to go, or rather for me to go without you. I've left you enough money to manage till you get back there and a credit card for emergencies – I know you don't like it, but humour me ok Sammy? I'm sorry I didn't stick around to say all this in person, but you know I hate goodbyes. So take care you yourself ok? Maybe give me a call when you're settled back in. And I promise I'll call you as soon as I hear from Dad. I'll see you soon. _

_Dean_

Sam sat back in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. After everything that had gone on these past months, this could not be real. What the hell was Dean thinking? There was no way Sam could just go back to College and pretend like nothing had happened. And even if he could, where would that leave Dean? The thought of his brother hunting alone with no one to watch his back made Sam's blood run cold.

"Dammit Dean!" he swore and got up, pacing the room.

Ok, he needed to calm down and think straight – something Dean clearly wasn't doing right now his subconscious helpfully reminded him. He hadn't been in the shower that long, so Dean couldn't have gone far not having taken the time to sit and write Sam the letter.

Quickly putting on his shoes and jacket, Sam grabbed the cash and credit card and, switching off the light behind him, he ran out the door.

Sure enough the Impala was nowhere to be seen, but then he'd already known that. Crossing the parking lot in a few strides he stood out on the road, trying to guess what direction Dean might have taken. The night was cool and Sam shivered, but it wasn't just from the cold. Dean was out there on his own and Sam had a horrible feeling he was in trouble.

Coming to a decision Sam chose to go left, as that had been the way they were heading in the first place. Striding quickly along the road he wondered if he'd be able to hitch a lift – he sure as hell wasn't gonna catch up with the Impala on foot. There was no sign of any other traffic on the road though, so until then he'd just have to keep going. No way could he just sit and do nothing.

Muttering under his breath about idiotic, stubborn older brothers Sam kept moving, all the while repeating a single prayer over and over. _Please let him be alright._

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, his mind whirling with thoughts of what Dean had said, but suddenly something made him look up. There was a full moon, which was helpfully lighting up the countryside all around Sam, and up ahead he could see the light was glinting off of something. Quickening his pace, Sam was almost jogging by the time he was able to make out what it was. His heart leapt into his mouth and he stumbled, before starting to run even faster. It was the roof of the Impala the moonlight was shining on and it was at the side of the road, at an awkward angle.

As Sam got nearer he could hear the engine was still running. Yanking open the drivers door, he crouched down and saw to his horror that Dean was slumped across the seats, not moving. Sam quickly turned the key to switch off the ignition and with shaking hands reached across to feel for a heartbeat.


	3. Chapter 3

Time stood still for Sam until he felt a pulse under his trembling fingertips. Letting out the breath he'd been holding, he reached across and gently pulled Dean upright so he was resting against the back of the drivers seat.

"Dean?" he said, gently patting the side Dean's face. His face tightened as he felt how cold Dean's skin was and he could see close up how pale he was.

"Dean – come on man, don't do this to me" said Sam. It was no good though. His brother was unconscious and it looked like he was staying that way for now.

Sam very carefully slid Dean across till he was sitting in the passenger seat, and then got in himself. Leaning Dean against his side, partly to steady him and partly because right now he needed to feel that his brother was still with him, Sam started the engine and turned the Impala round until they were heading back in the direction of the motel.

The journey thankfully took only moments. Dean really hadn't got very far before passing out. Sam was just grateful that Dean had managed to steer the car to the side of the road and not careered out of control into an oncoming car or wrapped the beloved Impala round a telegraph pole or something.

Parking as near to their room as he could, Sam switched off the engine and slid out of the car pulling Dean with him. He managed to get his brother into a fireman's carry without too much difficulty, wincing at how heavy he was.

"_All muscle Sammy" _said Dean's voice in his head, and Sam couldn't help but smile despite the seriousness of the situation.

Back inside the room Sam put the light on, tossed the keys onto the table, and lay Dean down on the bed. He carefully took off Dean's jacket and was about to hang it up when he froze. Holding the jacket up to the light, he stared at the lining. The extremely bloodstained lining.

Clenching his jaw and cursing Dean's stubbornness, Sam lifted up Dean's t-shirt and saw the layers of bandage wrapped round his torso. Gently lifting Dean up so his head was resting on Sam's shoulder, he undid the bandages and lifted up the gauze pads.

Sam swallowed as he saw the nasty looking gash in all it's glory. It was still oozing blood, which given the state of Dean's jacket was most likely why he was still unconscious.

"Oh Dean" said Sam, feeling tears of pain and frustration welling in his eyes. Rubbing his hand angrily across his face and putting aside his feelings to be dealt with later, Sam quickly fetched the first aid kit. He'd unfortunately had a lot of practice over the years at stitching wounds and after cleaning the gash thoroughly – something he was really glad Dean was unconscious for – he made short work of stitching it neatly.

Satisfied that Dean may not even end up with much of a scar, Sam re-bandaged the wound and pulled Dean's t-shirt back down. Lifting him up slightly again he managed to get him under the covers and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

Sam was still worried about how much blood Dean had lost but decided that it was probably better to keep him warm and comfortable for now and see what happened. He didn't really want to move Dean any more than he already had been, and he knew the second Dean woke up in hospital he'd be checking himself out anyway so it probably wasn't worth the hassle. He just wished Dean would wake up.

He reached out and put the back of his hand against Dean's forehead. There was no sign of fever, thank God, but his skin still felt too cold for Sam's liking. Getting up he went across to the thermostat on the wall and turned it up as high as it would go, and on the way back he grabbed the blanket from his own bed and put that on top of Dean as well.

Having done all he could for now, Sam dragged the chair across the room and sat beside Dean's bed. He suddenly realised just how tired he felt and he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He couldn't keep them open any longer. Resting his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and within minutes was asleep.

Dean felt like he was floating. Everything was pleasantly numb and he had a feeling he should be much more uncomfortable than he actually was. Aware of something niggling at the back of his mind, Dean struggled to wake up. His first attempt at opening his eyes resulted in a stab of pain that flared right across his brain. Closing them again until the sparks faded, Dean tried it a second time and after a few blinks was able to keep them open.

He frowned for a few seconds as he tried to work out where the hell he was and then it all came flooding back to him. John. The Daevas. Fleeing to the motel and then leaving while Sam was in the bathroom. His last memory was of feeling suddenly light headed as he drove and knowing he was going to pass out. He'd tried to steer off the road but he wondered if he'd managed it, and if his beloved car was still in one piece.

Turning his head he saw Sam asleep in a chair next to him and realised he was back in the motel room. Which meant Sam must have read the letter, and come after him anyway.

"Oh crap" he muttered, shutting his eyes briefly in frustration.

He wasn't sure he could manage to leave again, not with Sam right there this time. But he had to. It was still the best course of action, he was certain of that. Grimacing, he managed to sit up. The room tilted slightly but then evened out and apart from an overwhelming exhaustion he actually didn't feel as bad as he expected.

Taking a deep breath he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and sat there trying to work up the energy to move. Unfortunately fate wasn't on his side, as right then he heard Sam's sleepy voice.

"Dean?"

Dean turned round and saw Sam looking at him, blinking sleep from his eyes with a relieved look on his face.

"Hey Sammy" said Dean evenly and cleared his throat, trying to work out what to say next.

"Going somewhere?" said Sam with a false calmness that told Dean he was seconds away from being on the receiving end of a major Sam-meltdown.

Sam for his part had woken on hearing movement and been overjoyed to see Dean not only awake but upright. But all the feelings from earlier quickly came flooding back and relief turned to anger as he realised Dean was most likely working up to leaving again.

"Just the bathroom, if that's alright with you?" said Dean with equally false calmness as he managed to stand.

Waving a hand at Sam to get him to stay put even though he wavered slightly as he walked, Dean went into the bathroom.

Sam sat back down and let out a sigh. He was not looking forward to the conversation that was coming, but there was no way in a million years he was letting Dean leave again.

Dean splashed some water on his face and looked in the mirror. He had to admit, even if only to himself, he'd looked better. Lifting up his t-shirt he saw that the bandages had been re-done and guessed from the stinging pain and slight pull that he could feel that Sam had stitched the gash. He hoped he hadn't been too mad to do a neat job.

Steeling himself for what was to come, Dean opened the bathroom door and went back out.

Sam was no longer sitting and was instead standing in front of the window, staring out into the night. He turned to look at Dean and was relieved to see that his colour was a little better than it had been. Taking a calming breath, determined this was not going to turn into a fight, Sam spoke quietly.

"How you feeling?"

Dean shrugged with a slight wince and managed a small smile "I've felt worse" he said, which was as honest as he was prepared to be right now. Sam accepted the answer as at least being truthful and watched as Dean sat down on the bed again. Resting against the headboard he looked over at Sam, almost apprehensively.

"So" he said.

"So" said Sam, raising an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of the other bed facing his brother.

For a moment the room was silent as both of them waited for the other to make the first move.

Unusually it was Dean who cracked first. "Look Sam, I know you're probably pissed right now but I meant every word I said. You need to get back to your normal life, it's what you want isn't it?" he said frustration colouring the last sentence.

Sam was already shaking his head. "No Dean, it's not what I want!" he said and Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Really? Cos I seem to remember a conversation not so long ago where you said exactly that Sam!" he said heatedly.

Sam stood up and started pacing, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Look Dean, I know what I said but you're missing the point here"

"Which is? Cos 'you have to let me leave' seems fairly self explanatory" said Dean and Sam glared at him.

"Stop throwing my words back at me Dean!" he said and Dean sighed.

"What do you want from me Sam? I want you to stay, that's wrong, I want you to leave? That's wrong too. Way I see it I can't seem to win here" he said tiredly.

Sam felt the anger drain from his body as he heard the weariness in Dean's voice and saw the pain on his face. His expression softening, he came over and sat on the edge of the bed next to Dean.

"Ok let me try and explain, and just listen properly for a minute would you?" he said.

Dean sighed but nodded anyway and Sam paused for a moment as he tried to word exactly what he wanted to say. He knew that a lot rested on this – he had to find some way to convince Dean they needed to stick together and to make up for what he'd said before about leaving.

Taking a deep breath, he began.


	4. Chapter 4

"I know what I said earlier and I should have phrased it better. Because I didn't mean it the way it came out. I was so caught up in the idea we might actually be getting close to the Demon I didn't really think about what I was saying" said Sam earnestly.

Dean frowned but true to his word he said nothing, just waiting to see what Sam said next.

"I meant what I said about not wanting things to be the way they were. But that doesn't mean I want us to split up, Dean. Yes, I want to go back to College and yes, I want to give up hunting – at least on a full time basis – but whatever I do I want you to be a part of it. I had this idea see, about what we can do once it's all over" he said. "I want us to get a home together. I want you to do something you actually want to do, maybe even go to College or get a job doing something you love. I'm not saying you have to give up hunting completely, because I know you won't do that, but maybe that could be something you do only now and then. Hell, I'll even help you with it when you do - I don't want you hunting alone. But whatever it is you choose then I want to be a part of that. Because I can't go through the last two years again"

As he said the last part Sam looked away, swallowing as he blinked back the tears that were suddenly welling again.

He turned round again when he felt Dean's hand on his arm, and he saw his brother was looking at him questioningly, compassion clear in his eyes.

"What do you mean you can't go through the last two years again?" he said softly.

"I mean that leaving you behind, not talking to you – it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I told you that before, and I still mean it. I can't do that again, I just can't. The idea of you being out there alone, no one to watch your back? I mean what am I supposed to do Dean? Just sit there and wait for the phone call one day that tells me you finally ran out of luck?"

Sam's voice broke a little at the end and Dean went to speak but Sam cut him off, shaking his head.

"No Dean! I know what you're gonna say, about you being the older one and you don't need anyone watching out for you, but guess what? You're not invincible and you're not Superman! What if I hadn't found you out there tonight? You could have bled to death right there in the car! Is that what you want huh? You want to end up checking out in some middle-of-nowhere town, without anyone even being there?"

Dean paled and Sam felt a pang of guilt. He knew being alone was Dean's worst fear, but he also knew he needed to make Dean understand that he didn't have to handle everything by himself. And if a few moments of pain could achieve that then he would do it, however hard it was.

Dean looked away from Sam, struggling to keep his composure. The resolve he'd gathered to enable him to let his brother go was crumbling with every word. His mind was swirling with emotions and he could feel the walls he was always so careful to keep in place eroding more and more every minute.

Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean please – look at me" he said softly, and finally Dean looked up meeting his gaze. Sam's heart clenched at the pain he saw there.

"Dean, I just want to be there for you – the way you always are for me. Is that so hard to understand? I don't want to leave you behind, I want us to stick together. Please – don't do this ok?" he said, almost pleading.

Dean shook his head "I just want you to be happy Sam" he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Then don't do this. All I want is for us to face whatever is coming together Dean" said Sam simply.

Dean held Sam's gaze, desperately trying to see if what he was saying was true. And it was – he could see that clearly.

The ache he had felt, caused by Sam's words earlier about letting him go, was swept away by Sam's plans for **their** future. And in it's place was something different – hope. That everything would be ok. That he might actually get that home he'd always dreamt of. That his brother still needed him in his life however old – and annoyingly tall – he got.

Dean managed a smile "Ok, Sammy. If that's really what you want. We'll do it your way" he said, his voice trembling just a little.

Sam's face split into a relieved smile. What Dean had been prepared to do for him meant more than he would ever tell him. But every word he'd just said had been the truth. He couldn't handle them going their separate ways again, not now, not ever.

He knew Dean would never indulge in a 'chick-flick moment', not without there being near death involved somewhere along the line, but Sam needed contact with his brother right now if only to reassure himself that he was still there.

Leaning forward he rested his forehead against Dean's, and to his surprise, Dean let him. It was not a hug, Winchester's did not indulge in spontaneous hugging, but for a moment Sam felt like perhaps he was taking some of the weight from his brother. Even if just for a moment.

Dean sat there, leaning against Sam, and felt the tension draining from his body. He was just resting for a moment, that's all. And he definitely was _not _welling up. No way. He just had something in his eye. As did Sam as well apparently, when he finally sat back and met Dean's gaze with a smile.

Sitting back against the headboard, Dean closed his eyes for a second feeling a wave of tiredness wash over him.

"Hey, do you remember when you had appendicitis when you were 12?" said Sam suddenly. Dean opened his eyes, and looked at Sam with raised eyebrows.

"Ok, random?" he said and Sam shrugged.

"I was thinking about it earlier. Even back then you were so stubborn about admitting you needed anything. And you almost died because of it. Do you remember when I saw you, at the hospital after?"

Dean smirked "Course I remember Sammy – you had a total meltdown. Yelled at me for twenty minutes and then stood there bawling"

Sam rolled his eyes and whacked Dean's leg with his hand. "I did not 'meltdown' Dean" he said and Dean just chuckled.

"Dude – you so did. I thought you were gonna hyperventilate"

"Yeah well, you almost died. And I was the one who found you like that" said Sam seriously.

Dean's chuckles faded and he looked guilty "I know Sam, and I said I was sorry" he said softly and Sam shook his head.

"I wasn't saying it to make you feel guilty Dean. I was trying to say you need to remember. Even though I'm not a kid anymore, I still feel exactly the same about my big brother as I did back then" he said softly.

Dean stared at Sam. Hearing his brother say that meant more to him than he could ever have put into words. Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded and Sam smiled, his face flushing a little with embarrassment.

Realising that they had more than reached their limit for the emotional stuff, Sam got up.

"I don't know about you but I could sleep for a week" he said.

"I'm with you there" said Dean, yawning widely as he slid down the bed to lie down properly.

Things weren't perfect. The big fight was still coming, and John was still out there somewhere by himself, but they'd cleared up a lot of the issues that had been hanging over them for the last few months and both of them felt lighter for it.

Sam quickly changed and got into the other bed, turning the light out first. The moonlight from outside came through the window at an angle, bathing the room in a soft glow.

Sam had almost dropped off already when he heard Dean's voice.

"Hey Sammy?" he said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. You know, for what you said. And for coming after me. And everything."

Dean tailed off, his face glowing with embarrassment and feeling eternally grateful that Sam couldn't see him right now.

Sam knew it was hard for Dean to talk about stuff like this, so he kept it simple. They'd been deep enough for a lifetime tonight.

"You're welcome" he said softly and Dean smiled.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Cursing himself for not having asked before he lifted his head again.

"Hey Sam – the car is alright isn't it?" he said, concern flooding his voice.

On the other side of the room Sam smiled. He knew it was wicked, but perhaps he could get some payback for the fear he'd felt finding the room empty earlier. Pulling the covers further up to his head, he said nothing and closed his eyes.

"Come on Sam, I'm serious! She's ok right? Sam? Sammy!"


End file.
